High and Lifted Up Short Story
by chrissyvixen
Summary: It is a windy day and Johnny is very bored... I wrote this for school ... tell me what you think


**High and Lifted Up**

It was a windy day. The mailman barely made it to the front door. When the door opened, Mrs. Bous said, "hello", but, before she had a real chance to say "thank you", the mail blew out of the mailman's hands and into the house and the front door slammed in his face. Mrs. Bousfield ran to pick up the letter from the creaky, wooden floor.

"Oh my," she said.

Johnny Bous was watching the shutters open and then shut, open and then shut.

"Mom," he said, "may I go outside?"

"Be careful," she said. "It's so windy today."

Johnny crawled down from the window-seat and ran to the door. He opened it with a bang. The wind blew fiercely and snatched the newly recovered mail from Mrs. Bous's hands and blew it even further inside.

"Oh my," she said again. Johnny ran outside and the door slammed shut.

Outside, yellow, gold, and red leaves were leaping from swaying trees, landing on the roof, jumping off the roof, and then chasing one another down the street in tiny whirlwinds of merriment. Johnny watched in fascination.

"If I was a leaf, I would fly clear across the world," Johnny thought and then ran out into the yard among the swirl of colors. Mrs. Bous came to the front porch.

"Johnny, I have your jacket. Please put it on." However, there was no Johnny in the front yard. "Johnny?"

Johnny was a leaf. He was blowing down the street with the rest of his play-mates. A maple leaf came close-by, touched him and moved ahead. John met him shortly, brushed against him, and moved further ahead. They swirled around and around, hit cars and poles, flew up into the air and then down again.

"This is fun," Johnny thought.

The maple leaf blew in front of him. It was bright red with well-defined veins. The sun-light shone through it giving it a brilliance never before seen by a little boy's eyes.

"Where do you think we are going?" Johnny asked the leaf.

"Does it matter?" the leaf replied. "Have fun. Life is short."

"I beg to differ," an older leaf said suddenly coming beside them. "The journey may be short, but the end is the beginning."

Johnny pondered this, the best a leaf could ponder.

"Where do we end up?"

"If the wind blows you in that direction," the old leaf said, "you will end up in the city dump."

"I don't want that," Johnny said.

"If you are blown in that direction, you will fly high into the air and see things that no leaf has seen before."

"Follow me to the city dump," the maple leaf said. "Most of my friends are there."

The wind blew Johnny and the maple leaf along. Johnny thought of his choices. He wanted to continue to play.

"Okay," Johnny said, "I will go with you to the dump."

The winds shifted and Johnny and the leaf were blown in the direction of the city dump.

The old leaf didn't follow. He was blown further down the block and suddenly lifted up high into the air.

"Hey," he called out, "the sights up here. They are spectacular. Come and see."

Johnny and the maple leaf ignored him.

"I see something. I see the dump." The old leaf cried out. "I see smoke. Come up here. I see fire."

"I see nothing," the maple leaf said.

Johnny saw the fence that surrounded the city dump. He was happy to be with his friend. They would have fun in the dump.

Suddenly, a car pulled up. It was Johnny's mom. Mrs. Bous wasn't about to let her little boy run into the city dump.

"Not so fast," she said getting out of the car. "You are not allowed to play in there. Don't you see the smoke?"

Johnny watched the maple leaf blow against the wall and struggle to get over. He ran over to get it but was unable to reach it.

Mrs. Bous walked over and took the leaf. She put it in her pocket.

"There," she said, "it will be safe until we get home."

Johnny smiled, ran to the car and got in. He rolled down the back window and looked up into the sky. He wondered where the old leaf had gone. Maybe one day he would see what the old leaf had seen, just maybe.


End file.
